


At the Heart of It

by JynErsoinNYC



Category: Raya and the Last Dragon (2021)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, But also, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/F, First Kiss, Guilt, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Mutual Pining, Namaari is a badass, Raya is a badass, Sisu is So Done, Sparring, Trust Issues, Yearning, and when Raya called her Princess Undercut, asdfghklllll, i'll say it again: Namaari is a sapphic QUEEN, obviously, so why can't they just admit their feelings!!!!, tentative friendship, the banter, the flirting, this story is post-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JynErsoinNYC/pseuds/JynErsoinNYC
Summary: Face to face, Raya saw no trace of the enemy who had hunted her across Kumandra.
Relationships: Namaari/Raya (Disney), Raya & Sisu (Disney)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 335





	1. Raya

Raya had not worn such finery in six years. The newly-tailored _Ao Dai_ was turquoise silk, threaded with silver, itching where the high collar brushed the nape of her neck. But the occasion for which it was due had been worth the struggle of bathing and dressing and making herself look presentable, when for the past six years she had barely brought a brush to her hair.

She resisted the urge to adjust the collar; focused on the words of her Ba.

This ceremony was the first step the five lands were taking to reform Kumandra. They were in the temple that had once served as the fortress of the Dragon Gem. Its roof had not yet been repaired in the month following the banishment of the Drunn, and bright afternoon sunlight illuminated the crowd gathered around the inner circle.

Perched along the rim of the broken roof was Sisu and her brothers and sisters. Their presence commanded everyone’s attention at some point or another. Raya herself had just torn her gaze away after Sisu caught her staring and gave her a not-so-subtle gesture to focus on the proceedings.

_As bad as Tuk Tuk_ , Raya chastised herself. But the dragons’ magnificence…

Raya listened to her Ba detail his vision for unification. He painted them a picture of peace with articulate words, spoken with such confidence it was like the events that occurred in this temple six years ago had never happened.

Blind trust, Raya once would have called it. Now, she could appreciate his unbreakable faith, marvel in its ability to bring people together.

A flutter of movement. Raya’s gaze shifted an inch to the left of her father, where Namaari stood beside Chief Virana. As though she had been compelled, the Fang princess had tilted her head to look up at the dragons, and awe was written in her slackened features. When Pengudatu spoke, addressing the humans with words of thanks for their new commitment to peace, Raya found herself focused on the way Namaari’s mouth fell open, the way her dark eyes lit up. Such undying reverence for these creatures.

Perhaps Namaari was the bigger dragon nerd.

The ceremony ended, and Raya and her Ba stood at the temple entrance as everyone processed out.

“You did this, Raya,” Benja said to her, watching the people of Kumandra walk past. “You are my pride and joy.”

The smile on his face – Raya wondered how she had endured the last six years without that smile.

“It wasn’t just me, Ba,” she reminded him, leaning against his side. He put an arm around her.

Her Ba had been right. All they had needed to come together was trust; a lesson Raya had learned late. But she thought of those who had encouraged her to trust: her Ba, first, then Sisu. Those who had given her a reason to trust: Boun and Noi and Tong; and those who had accepted her trust. Namaari.

Benja chuckled. “Maybe so, Dewdrop, but without your belief that things could be better, where would we be?”

Raya couldn’t find the heart to admit to her Ba that she had spent much of the last six years with only the thought of his return motivating her. Had deemed the lands deserving of their fate. His dream of a unified Kumandra had not been hers.

Now, though…she could see it was a dream she should have held onto.

…

A celebration took place in the Heart Palace after the ceremony. Every door and window were thrown open, allowing the mild evening breeze to drift inside and dissipate the heat and humidity of the day. The veins of gold in the blue marble of the floors glimmered in the light. Percussion and woodwind backgrounded talk and laughter, and the spicy scent of Laksa filled the air.

Raya stood with her Ba. He was talking to the new chief of Tail – a more open-minded leader than her predecessor – and Raya was supposed to be listening, but…

_Where was she?_

“Raya.”

Her gaze sifted the crowd, searching.

“ _Raya_.”

“Yes?” Her head snapped back to her Ba, who twisted his lips the way he did when he was trying to hide a smile.

“Chief Kadife asked you a question, Raya.”

Raya immediately bowed her head to the Tail chief. “Apologies, Chief Kadife, I was distracted. What was your question?”

Chief Kadife did not appear affronted. Her eyes were kind. “Will you be travelling in your new role as emissary?”

Raya was caught off-guard by the question. She was not used to having an official role beside that of Princess of Heart – and even that title had taken a back seat the past six years. She certainly had not realised this new one was breaking news.

When Raya had suggested to her father that she would like to continue travelling Kumandra, to provide aid and help maintain this tentative peace, she had not expected a formal title of emissary to be established. But her Ba had wanted her to have something to do now that there was no longer a need to guard the Dragon Gem.

Sisu had loved the idea, offering to be Raya’s “business partner”, though that wasn’t the term Raya would have used. She had told Sisu that a dragon would probably be better suited for the job anyway, would most definitely see quicker results. But in a moment of earnestness, Sisu had said that it couldn’t just be the dragons who demanded peace of the people – people needed to learn to demand it of themselves.

“I shall,” Raya answered Chief Kadife. “But in a few months, I think. Home hasn’t lost its charm just yet.”

“Of course,” Chief Kadife smiled. “And you’re welcome in Tail whenever you wish. I happen to be acquainted with a young friend of yours, who speaks highly of you.”

“How is Boun?” Raya asked. It had been a month since she had last seen him.

Chief Kadife chuckled. “Would you believe the Shrimporium has become so popular that he now runs two boat-restaurants and is hiring staff? The kid has a future ahead of him.”

Raya’s heart warmed to hear it.

Chief Kadife bade them her leave, and Benja turned to Raya, his smile now on full display. “Distracted, hmm?”

“Sorry, Ba,” Raya smiled sheepishly. “Just hungry.”

“Then go and eat, Dewdrop. I’ll manage here alone.”

Raya squeezed his hand and crossed the room, heading to the tables spread with foods from each of the five lands: shrimp from Tail, dumplings from Talon, thick, vegetable stew from Spine, rice from Heart, and fruits from Fang. She sighed in contentment at the aromas.

Yeah, jackfruit jerky was not it.

She nibbled on a skewer of mango, banana, and lychee, lingering against a wall as she continued to scour the assembly of people. She would have liked a friend by her side – Tuk Tuk or Sisu – even just so she wouldn’t look like a total loner in her own home. But Tuk Tuk was too big now, and Sisu was outside in the gardens with the children. And the one person Raya really wanted to talk to wasn’t here, as far as she could see.

The bell tower of the Heart Palace chimed ten in the evening, and as if on cue, Namaari entered the party with her mother through a set of doors across the room.

Raya stilled.

Just as she had six years ago, the princess of Fang wore all white, though her style still consisted of loose pants and a sash and belt slung around her hips. But tonight she wore a cape of gold, and Raya stared at it, at the way the material draped over one, toned shoulder and fell to the level of her knees.

Raya had wanted to get Namaari alone all afternoon, but the Fang princess had not left Virana’s side. Now mother and daughter stood talking, bodies angled to take in the view from beyond the curving veranda.

Before she lost her nerve, and before anyone else could beat her to it, Raya approached them. Her bare feet made no sound on the marble floor, but Namaari and Virana still sensed her presence and looked over their shoulders, vigilant as the cats they rode into battle. Their eyes locked on her.

Before Raya could even ascend the two steps to greet them, Virana was farewelling her daughter and disappearing into the crowd.

Raya watched her leave. “Why do I get the feeling your mother doesn’t like me?”

She turned to Namaari. Her rival stood there, stance straight, eyes watchful. Raya knew Namaari’s ticks well enough to know she had been on edge all day, as had the rest of Fang who attended the ceremony. As though they were waiting for an accusation to be made against them, a demand for retribution. Even Sisu had noticed it, and asked Raya why the people of Fang still looked like they would prefer to be Drunn-prey.

Doubt must have settled in again, this past month. Dangerous thoughts of blame, regret, of wondering whether that first day of unification could last. Only when she had been admiring the dragons had Namaari’s restrained, knotted composure unravelled.

“She likes you fine,” Namaari answered, after a long silence between them.

Raya took a step up toward her, and Namaari matched her movement with a step down. Face to face with her, Raya saw no trace of the enemy who had hunted her across Kumandra. The permanently slanted brows and narrowed eyes were gone, as was the superiority and arrogance once embodied in clenched fists and set shoulders. These changes softened the hard edges of the Fang princess.

Also missing, however, was the conviction in Namaari’s voice, the gleam of surety in her eyes – the things that made her fierce and confident, the things that made her Namaari.

“You don’t have to keep beating yourself up,” Raya said.

Namaari’s eyes widened slightly, then glanced away from Raya. A timid sweep of her hair.

“I don’t think you understand,” Namaari murmured.

“Oh, I do,” Raya countered, crossing her arms. “I did it every day for six years.”

Namaari’s eyes guttered with shame, then. So sudden and so clear that Raya held up her hands in surprise. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Despite appearing miserable, Namaari managed to raise her eyebrows at her.

“Well, maybe I did,” Raya conceded. “But that’s not why I want to talk to you.”

“You want to talk to me,” Namaari echoed, disbelieving.

“Again – stop beating yourself up.” Raya pulled out the small box she had carried with her all day. Offered it to Namaari. “Here.”

Namaari took it, opened the lid. A ghost of a smile. “I wondered if you might have this.”

“Well, I’m finally returning it to you properly. With my thanks.”

Raya watched Namaari pick up the pendant from where it was nestled in red silk. “You don’t need to thank me, Raya. I don’t deserve it.”

Raya restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and quirked her lips. “Okay, _dep la_ , I think that’s enough self-pity for one evening.”

“Hmm,” Namaari smiled properly at that, then studied Raya beneath darkened lashes. “I hear you’re an emissary now.”

Raya did roll her eyes this time. “Ba or Sisu,” she asked.

Namaari chuckled. “Sisu told me. As soon as she saw me this morning.”

“Loudmouth,” Raya shook her head helplessly. “But yes, I guess I am.”

“Not getting bored without a hunt, are you?” Namaari asked, and Raya was strangely relieved to hear the familiar, sly edge to her words.

She lifted a shoulder airily. “I admit, evading your efforts to chase me down was fun. Like a game of _cat-and-mouse_ , where the mouse was extremely clever and badass.”

Namaari laughed at that. The sound was unfiltered: sharp, but sensual. Even six years ago, in this very same room, Raya had not heard Namaari laugh like that. She gaped at her rival.

“Then perhaps we don’t have to dispense with the games, Raya,” Namaari said, a gleam in her eye. “I rather enjoyed myself, too.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer, until the deep, successive ringing of a gong pulled their attention away. The noise of the party quieted around them.

“I hope everyone is enjoying the celebrations,” Benja spoke from where he had ascended the dais at the front of the room. His voice carried over the crowd. “If the chiefs would join me, we shall now unveil the tapestry.”

A murmur of interest through the room. Everyone turned to face the curving wall where the tapestry in question was mounted, rolled up and waiting to be revealed. Four more of them were already wrapped and boxed – gifts from Heart to the other lands of Kumandra.

“And where’s Raya,” her Ba added, looking around the room. His gaze landed on her and Namaari. “You too, Dewdrop. Up you come.”

Raya wasn’t someone who embarrassed easily. But being called Dewdrop in front of a crowd of people – in front of Namaari…

Well.

“Your father calls you Dewdrop?” Namaari muttered from the corner of her mouth, the slightest smirk curling her lip.

Virana was beckoning her daughter too.

“As if you don’t have a pet name,” Raya shot back as the two of them made their way through the crowd.

“None so sweet as Dewdrop,” Namaari flashed her a grin, then veered off to stand beside her mother.

Raya couldn’t help her own smile.

The tapestry was unveiled: a beautiful piece of artwork crafted by the finest artists in Heart. It depicted a Lotus blossom, each petal containing the emblem of one of the five lands. The flower was surrounded by a chain of dragons, illustrated in bright colours.

Applause filled the room, and people spent the rest of the night approaching the tapestry to observe it closely. Raya spent the time with Sisu in the gardens, blinking light rain from her lashes as she watched a group of dragons dance in the starlit sky above them. Children gasped in delight as their magic glowed underfoot – explosions of blues and pinks in the darkness, a display that only the fireworks from Fang could match.

When dawn approached Raya in the garden, Namaari approached with it.

“We’re leaving,” Namaari said, glancing behind her to where Virana stood on the steps of the veranda, sceptre in hand as she waited. The people of Fang were beginning to make their way down the mountainside via the steps carved into the stone.

Raya stood from where she sat with Sisu. “Well…thank you for coming.”

Namaari looked like she wanted to say something else, but she only bowed to Sisu, smiled quietly at Raya, and turned to leave.

“Let me know when you get bored without a hunt,” Raya called after her.

Namaari paused and looked back over her shoulder. The slant of her hair revealed only a hint of a grin. “I’ll see you around, _dep la_.”

Raya watched her walk away.

It would be six months until they met again.


	2. Namaari

When the first trace of the day’s heat materialised, Namaari dismissed her cadre. They had been training since dawn behind the Fang Palace, on a stretch of lawn bordered by fountains. She sheathed her blades with a frown, disdain etched into the curve of her upper lip, and offered Inka a hand. Her second grasped it, and Namaari hauled her up from the ground.

“Slipped,” Inka explained, wincing slightly, and not at the pain.

“Of course,” Namaari bit out drily, then turned to address the others. “Same time tomorrow – and don’t be late again, Som.”

Leaning against his spear, sweat dampening the edges of his headscarf, Heph opened his mouth in what was most likely the beginning of a complaint.

Namaari arched an eyebrow at him. “Unless you have… _other arrangements_?”

Heph swallowed. “Princess Namaari, the celebration tonight–”

“Is tonight,” Namaari interrupted. “So, as I said: same time tomorrow. And I expect you won’t be stumbling around hungover like last time.”

The four Fang warriors stared at her, wide-eyed. Namaari turned and left, heading back into the palace.

Perhaps she was not in the greatest of moods today.

…

The sun had only just crested the mountains across the bay, gilding the slanted rooftops of the palace, and already the day was humid. A panorama of the recently-repaired city greeted Namaari as she reluctantly entered the private dining room, a wide chamber open to the elements on three sides. This morning the stone pillars supporting the high ceiling looked like the bars of a cage – a cage in which Namaari was voluntarily trapping herself.

Virana was seated at the rectangular table already laid with breakfast, her posture straight and rigid, and Namaari took a bracing breath as she approached.

“Mother,” Namaari joined her hands in respect, then slipped into the seat adjacent to her.

Virana did not respond. No morning greeting, no endearment. Just a hardened brow as she began emphatically dishing congee into the bowl in front of Namaari.

“I can do that,” Namaari said quietly.

“Hmm,” Virana’s eyes narrowed, and Namaari knew she was in for it. “Well, it seems to me, Namaari, that you are incapable of performing simple tasks.”

“If this is about yesterday–”

“You know perfectly well it’s about yesterday,” Virana snapped.

Namaari looked down at her place setting. Arguments between her and her mother were few and far between. It was territory neither of them enjoyed, and rarely gave themselves reason to traverse. But yesterday…

Yesterday had been the ultimate shunning of her duty as Princess of Fang, the first time Namaari had disobeyed her mother since she was ten years old and snuck a sword into a wedding ceremony.

Delegates from across Kumandra had arrived in Fang for a week of diplomatic meetings. It was the first time the lands would be attempting formal negotiations since the banishment of the Drunn, and Fang was the first land to host the conference. And while Namaari had been present to receive their guests, she had fled the city immediately afterward, missing the introductory talks and dinner.

The last seven months had been a time for the lands to be with their own, to rebuild and reconnect from the inside. If not for the tapestry hung in the throne room, gifted to Fang by Heart, as well as the presence of dragons back in their skies, Namaari could almost have imagined they were still at war for how little she saw or heard from the other lands.

And then they had been here.

The memories, the guilt which had lingered in her for the last seven months, were stirred to the surface by the arrival of the other lands, by the faces of the people she had once believed her enemies, who had once seen her as theirs. She hadn’t been able to take it.

Namaari had crossed the new viaduct spanning the canal and ridden hard on the back of her serlot, no destination in mind, only the warring in her heart that she couldn’t seem to shake. Because while peace may have been prospering, it was too soon for the rest of Kumandra to forget Fang’s role in its division, for Namaari to forget her own role…

For all that it had come back into their hearts – even hers – trust was not the same as forgiveness.

And the part of her that knew she would never deserve forgiveness, where the regret and shame and loathing sustained itself, well…that part of her was still encased in stone, unable to be approached or coaxed or convinced to relent. So she had shoved it down deep and learned to live with it.

Until yesterday, when it all came back.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Namaari made herself say now.

Neither of them had touched their meal.

“Quite frankly,” Virana replied, the sun glinting off the choker around her neck, “an apology is not required of you. Only amends.”

Namaari supposed that was fair. She had arrived back in the city after night had fallen, dinner already over and the delegates retired to their suites. Stealing through the palace to get to her rooms had not been her proudest moment. Light had shone from beneath the doors of her mother’s apartments, and Namaari had caught herself holding her breath as she tip-toed past. Climbing the last sweeping staircase to her rooms, Namaari had shaken her head at herself. Twenty years old and worrying over being scolded by her mother.

She’d been deserving of it, though, and had known one was coming whether she liked it or not.

Virana put down her teacup and looked sternly at her daughter. Meeting her mother’s gaze was harder than Namaari wanted to admit.

“You will attend this afternoon’s conference, Namaari, and this evening’s dinner in the dress I will lay out for you–” Namaari died a little on the inside, then, “– and you will personally present our gifts to each of the lands at the end of their stay.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Virana tapped a sharp rhythm on the table with even sharper nails, and more to the room than to Namaari, said, “She may be young all things considered, but to insult Sisudatu in this way–”

Namaari almost dropped her spoon, then. “What?”

The look Virana gave her was still disapproving, but a gleam of satisfaction lifted the corner of her mouth, and Namaari knew her mother’s next words would be the real punishment she inflicted upon her daughter.

“Late as she might have been,” Virana continued, “Sisudatu accompanied the delegates from Heart – she is good friends with their princess, it seems – and asked after your whereabouts upon her arrival.”

Namaari lost any trace of an appetite. Or maybe that was her stomach twisting in on itself.

“When I couldn’t tell her where my own daughter was…” Virana shook her head.

Namaari stared unseeing at the space in front of her. She had known Raya was attending the negotiations. She had even seen her briefly yesterday when Heart arrived, though no words had been exchanged between them. She had spent a good percentage of the night lying awake in bed, thinking about that, thinking about the last time they had spoken, six months ago.

But Sisu, here as well. The knowledge should have filled Namaari with a thrill – the same blend of nerves and awe and reverence that always left her speechless when it came to dragons. But no. Any innate enchantment was quickly overshadowed by shame, and the first real regret for her actions yesterday.

_Sisu had asked for her…_

The desire to immediately seek out the dragon and atone was like a spear through her heart.

“I have things to attend to,” Virana said, dismissive. “The conference begins mid-afternoon.”

For a moment Namaari half-wondered whether her mother expected her to leave. But it was Virana who stood and strode away from the table. Halfway to the doors, she glanced back.

“I don’t expect an explanation as to why you went missing yesterday,” her mother said. “But know that I will listen if you should want to give me one.”

Namaari swallowed. To tell her mother, to reveal that part of her…

She looked up, mouth opening without a thought of what she was going to say, but her mother had already left.

…

Fang’s architecture did not feature curving lines or circular structures, so it had been a point of discussion how they might host this conference without dismissing one of the lands to the back of the room, so to speak. Eventually they had settled on laying out fifty seats – cushions, really – on the sprawling lawns in the palace grounds, shaded from the sun at this time of day.

Namaari had not sought out Sisu that morning, who she had known would definitely want an explanation for her absence yesterday, even if it only came from a place of rampant curiosity. A part of her had considered what it might be like to confide in the dragon, but she had immediately revolted against the idea; Namaari would never – _could_ _never_ – insult such a revered creature by subjecting her to the confessions of her own failings.

So, she tracked a course to her training room instead, intending to beat all of her problems into submission. That was, until she was converged upon by her mother’s advisors, who requested she assist them with preparations for the dinner that Fang would be hosting tonight.

Five hours later, Namaari had been fuming again. Punishment, she may have deserved, but to have to preside over trivial decisions between gold or silver tableware, broth or dumplings served first, pretending she cared about seating plans…had her actions really been deserving of this torture?

Virana could be cunning and calculating when she wanted, and she certainly knew how to make people regret their mistakes. Much like Namaari herself.

Now, she stood with her mother as the lands assembled on the lawn for the conference. For all that she was the Princess of Fang – poised and approached by many – the polite courtesies in which she engaged felt awkward, her small talk sounded pathetically forced compared to her mother’s.

The Spine councilwoman before her turned to face Virana, and Namaari took the opportunity to slide her gaze across the lawn, unable to restrain herself any longer. She kept the movement discreet, unwilling to let anyone realise she was currently very distracted.

The Princess of Heart stood with her father, speaking to the Chief of Tail. She wore clothes similar to the last time she had been in Fang, though they were newer and of finer material. Traditional Heart slippers replaced her rough-worn boots, and she no longer concealed that lithe body beneath a cloak and woven hat.

Chief Benja had an arm around his daughter, holding her against him. That was another thing clawing at Namaari’s conscience, feeding her guilt – the knowledge that she had caused Raya six years of grief and loneliness.

Standing with them was the young boy who had been there that day seven months ago – the one Namaari forced herself to remember as the day the Drunn had been banished and dragons had returned, _not_ the day she had almost doomed the entire world. Boun, she recalled his name. A chef or businessman or rather.

He said something to Raya that Namaari could not hear across the lawn, his hands gesturing animatedly in the air. Raya laughed hard, her head tipping back, hair sliding over her shoulders. And even though Namaari couldn’t hear that either, she tried to imagine what it sounded like, putting together all the fragments of laughter she had ever heard from Raya.

They were not enough.

Namaari tore her gaze away from the Heart princess, from her relaxed posture and easy eyes – the smile that quirked her full lips – before she did something stupid like go over and greet her or try to get her to laugh again.

She had already turned back to her mother when Raya glanced over at her.

…

The conference proceeded for two hours. Speeches, concerns highlighted, and solutions debated; even a treaty re-establishing honest trade between the lands had been outlined. Surprising progress, though that may have been due to the dragons in attendance (not Sisu, Namaari had noticed). Now, Namaari stood on the dais in her room, staring down at the dress she was to wear to dinner.

She frowned.

Despite her preference for otherwise, formal clothes were something she wore often enough, though they rarely consisted of dresses. The _Chakkri_ that was laid out on her bed was cream, stitched with red. It was beautiful, but no matter how much she could appreciate good style, Namaari was not the kind of woman who enjoyed wearing restrictive clothes. She doubted she could get a leg over her serlot wearing this thing.

_Only for one night._

She bathed and dressed, re-applied fresh cosmetics and her jewellery, and thirty minutes before dinner was due to begin one of her mother’s attendants knocked on her doors, obviously checking on Virana’s behalf whether Namaari had made another escape.

They were hosting dinner in the throne room. The day had finally cooled down and a light breeze gently tossed the banners hanging from the ceiling. Beyond the pillars flanking the hall, the twilight sky was deep blue and dotted with stars.

Namaari stood at the base of the throne, the gilt staircase rising above her head like a crown. Ten soldiers of the royal army had joined her there. They couldn’t be called friends – Namaari was their superior, and that distinction remained even during festivities – but there was a solidarity between them. Namaari may be their princess, but they were all warriors at heart.

The delegates arrived land by land, scattering the hall with a rainbow of colour. When Namaari noticed that regal shade of turquoise appear at its entrance, she shifted her attention past the conversation she’d been having towards…There.

Raya, newly arrived, surrounded by the delegates from Heart.

They marked each other in the same moment, and Raya immediately broke away from her people to saunter down the room toward Namaari.

Namaari recovered swiftly from the intent in Raya’s gaze, and to dispel any notions that Raya might be forming about Namaari’s willingness to let her make the first move, she pushed past the Fang soldiers and moved to meet her halfway.

Indeed, as they approached each other, the line of Raya’s brow dipped in brief annoyance. Then it settled above a cool smile as they came face to face. A long, intentional moment was taken to study each other.

Raya wore a Heart robe like she had when they first met, its silken hem and cuffs embroidered with beads. But this one no longer hung loosely on a thin, preadolescent body. Now it fit snuggly against Raya’s waist, curving to a flare at her hips. Namaari swallowed, tearing her eyes upward to high cheekbones framed by long hair.

Raya was similarly roving her own gaze over the Princess of Fang. Quite unabashedly. When she finally looked up, her eyes gleamed. “I can see why you decided to skip dinner last night.”

Namaari raised an eyebrow. “Does it look that bad?”

“Oh, the dress is stunning,” Raya commented otherwise, crossing her arms. “But it looks a nightmare to get in to.”

Namaari huffed a laugh. “It was.”

“I guess we’ll suffer together,” Raya tugged at her collar like she had when they were children. She looked noticeably at ease; hip cocked, gaze steady. And that provocative smirk plastered on her face…

Namaari knew that smile was saved for her alone. Designed to make her blood simmer, it baited her desire for a brawl, caressed every secret frustration she harboured for her rival, daring her to let down her guard, to come out and play.

“That was a pretty speech you made today,” Namaari said instead.

Raya shrugged. “What can I say? Diplomacy suits me.”

“Hmm,” Namaari smirked. “And here I thought the only things you were good at were outsmarting traps and nicking precious artefacts.”

A flash of delight in Raya’s eyes. “Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you should.”

The implication in those words…

They stared at each other, silence falling between them. Namaari remembered the last time they had been in this room together. Their blades had spoken for them, then. All the rage and regret that had amassed over six years, finally exchanged in the clash of their swords, the panting of their breaths, the fleeting contact of their eyes between blows.

Raya straightened, frowning slightly. “Namaari–”

“ _Raya!_ ”

They both started. Two girls approached them – one with a wild mane of lavender hair, the other with sleek cerise tresses – both wearing outrageously bejewelled robes that glittered like fireworks in the lantern light.

Raya grinned. “Sisu, Pranee, you both look like a million jade pieces.”

Namaari felt her eyes widen. She hadn’t seen Sisu in her human form since that day in Tail, when she had briefly wondered whether Raya was crazy – possibly from six years in exile. And now Pranee, Sisu’s sister, just as beautiful in their bizarre, colourful way.

Raya and the two dragons were exchanging spirited greetings. Then they turned to face Namaari, whose cheeks heated for no good reason. She immediately brought her hands together above her head, bowing at the waist, desperate to–

Sisu barrelled into her.

Namaari froze, snared in the surprise embrace, eyes locked with Raya’s over Sisu’s human shoulder. Raya’s lips twisted in the way that meant she was trying to hide a smile.

“Wow, Namaari,” Sisu frowned as she released her. “You are _tense_.”

Raya’s brows lifted imperceptibly.

“Is it the dress?” Sisu asked, looking Namaari up and down. “Cause I wouldn’t be worrying, hon – you look _good_.”

Flustered, Namaari swept aside her hair.

“Am I right?” Sisu turned to Raya.

Raya looked from Namaari to the dragon. She blinked. “Huh?”

Sisu rolled her eyes. “Namaari looks good, doesn’t she?”

Raya stammered something unintelligible and was apparently saved from answering by the announcement of dinner.

“Finally,” Sisu groaned loudly. “We were so busy shopping today I forgot to have lunch.”

Pranee – considerably more serene, it appeared – smiled at them before Sisu tugged her by the arm, leading her toward the table positioned down the centre of the stone floor.

Left in their wake, Namaari took a breath.

“Sorry,” Raya murmured, and somehow she was now standing closer to Namaari.

“Why are you sorry?”

Raya shrugged. “Just that…Sisu is a lot, sometimes. When I asked if they wanted to come to dinner, they disappeared for the entire day to hunt down those dresses.”

“She’s certainly not what I used to imagine,” Namaari confessed, surprising herself at her candour.

A soft snort of laughter. “Well, you and I have that in common.”

They aimed for the table, separating to take their seats after one last look at each other.

Namaari took her place halfway down the long table where, as heir-apparent to Fang, it was her duty to sit at the centre of the proceedings. The seat at her right was typically allocated to the guest whom Namaari had been tasked with engaging; business, sweet-talk, or even the subtle art of intimidation. Tonight, Namaari looked up, expecting the heir-apparent to Spine.

Raya was staring straight back at her.

 _Oh_ , _Toi_ …

Had Namaari dozed off while forced to oversee seating arrangements?

“You didn’t ask for a seat beside me, did you, Princess?” Raya turned to sip from her water. Her words were laced with amusement, quiet so only Namaari could hear.

“Don’t flatter yourself, _ke trom_ ,” Namaari muttered back. “Just keeping an eye on your sticky fingers.”

She caught a trace of Raya’s smile being hidden behind her cup.

The first course was served – rice-noodles in broth – and Namaari immediately felt Raya nudge her arm with an elbow. “What?”

“Should I stop everyone – check for poison?” Quiet, teasing words.

“Only if you want to look like an idiot.”

Raya chuckled quietly, and Namaari smiled.

They didn’t speak much during the meal – their inclination to taunt each other would not be appreciated during a state dinner.

“Do people know that’s Sisu?” Namaari asked Raya when, a few seats down, the dragon earned a chorus of cheers for declaring that mangoes were nature’s greatest contribution to the world.

“I don’t know,” came Raya’s slow response. “I don’t think I ever told anyone apart from my friends. And my Ba. I don’t know if anyone even remembers dragons can do that.”

_My friends…_

Namaari swallowed. She felt the guilt surging up again and shoved it back down.

“They might know soon, though,” Raya added, smirking at Sisu. “She just ate a whole platter of mango – I don’t think the human stomach can fit that much food.”

Namaari laughed – then sealed shut her lips. Further down the table, her mother turned her head to investigate the sound, as did Chief Benja. Raya gave them both a little wave, and Namaari went back to her dumplings, trying to ignore the pleased smile Raya was making no effort to hide.

Their arms brushed as many times in the next three courses. They pointedly ignored each one, but neither made a move to prevent it from happening again. At the end of the night, Namaari felt like her skin was on fire. They lingered together after dinner ended, standing side-by-side at the top of the steps. The courtyard below was quiet, blanketed in stars.

From the corner of her eye, Namaari watched Raya gaze across the city. She could tell the other princess wanted to say something and waited in silence until she was ready.

“Namaari…” Raya finally took a breath, and Namaari caught herself doing the same. “I was hoping we could talk while I’m here in Fang. Properly.”

She frowned. What could Raya possibly have to say to her? All it ever was between them was insults and banter.

“I…”

“…Will see you tomorrow?” Raya offered. Another quirk of her lips. “Sure thing.”

Namaari rolled her eyes, and Raya studied her once more, gaze flicking from the dress to her face.

“Good night, _dep la_ ,” Raya said softly, and left her at the top of the steps.

Namaari watched her go.

When had that endearment started making her heart race?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That ended up being wayyyy longer than I planned. Oh well. 
> 
> Ke trom means “thief” in Vietnamese.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout-out to Kelly Marie Tran for being the first person to ship these Queens.


End file.
